


I've been Ghosting (but now I'm out of hiding)

by Pillar144, REFRIDGERATOR



Series: just the two of us (we can make it if we try) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Ghost JSchlatt, Hints at Touch Starvation, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jschlatt Needs a Hug, Kinda, Making Up, References to Abuse, References to Alcohol, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pillar144/pseuds/Pillar144, https://archiveofourown.org/users/REFRIDGERATOR/pseuds/REFRIDGERATOR
Summary: "Did you really hate me..?" His mumble was barely audible, full of remorse as he leaned on a tree; sending a cold breeze through its leaves with his presence."HE PUT US THROUGH S-so..-?" Quackity stumbled over his words, faltering as a barely audible yet painfully familiar voice reached his ears. His eyes widened as he rested the guitar in his lap, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing around. He had no idea what the mystery voice had said, but he had a feeling he knew who had said it, and it made a certain cold fear constrict his chest------ or -------Quackity and Ghostschlatt talk.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: just the two of us (we can make it if we try) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051355
Comments: 2
Kudos: 211





	I've been Ghosting (but now I'm out of hiding)

**Author's Note:**

> TW // References to Abuse and Alcohol, Semi-yelling and Swearing

Quackity adjusted the guitar strap he had fastened around his torso, said guitar firmly pressed against his back. It had been a week since Schlatt's funeral, and a week since he had been to the place where they had hosted the event. You'd think he wouldn't want to visit the place where the man he had come to despise so much had been buried, but he had come here for one reason and one reason only. A snarky grin made its way onto his face as he sat criss-cross against the podium, bringing his guitar around so he could hold it properly. He fiddled with the tuning for a few minutes and then strummed experimentally a few times. Satisfied with the way it sounded, he began to play the song he had been writing all week for this moment. He cleared his throat and then began to yell-sing in a horrible off-key way.

"THE MOTHER FUCKER IS DEAD! YEAH!" He brought out the "yeah," forcefully strumming a C chord. "THE FUCKING PUSSY IS GONE!"

In the surrounding tree line around the grave stood a man- or what used to be one. A ghostly figure with a somber and defeated expression watched from a distance- much too remorseful to walk towards the living man sat with his guitar. His eyes were empty and his suit long gone- left on his corpse and replaced with his old blue turtleneck he wore as a teen. Schlatt was almost afraid of how happy everyone seemed with him gone- he knew he was bad but that's what he thought they all wanted. Someone to unite them further to fight against- but watching the shorter man sing his heart out, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"Did you really hate me..?" His mumble was barely audible, full of remorse as he leaned on a tree; sending a cold breeze through its leaves with his presence.

"HE PUT US THROUGH S-so..-?" Quackity stumbled over his words, faltering as a barely audible yet painfully familiar voice reached his ears. His eyes widened as he rested the guitar in his lap, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing around. He had no idea what the mystery voice had said, but he had a feeling he knew who had said it, and it made a certain cold fear constrict his chest. Licking his lips nervously, he called,

  
"Is... someone there?" 

  
He almost felt stupid for saying it out loud. It was probably his imagination. He had been on edge ever since Schlatt's chilling death. Yet he listened carefully for a response, holding his breath.

"Shit-"

The ghost hid himself further behind the tree- as far as he knew no one on the server could see him, let alone hear him. He cursed himself under his breath, he didn't want to bother Quackity; or anyone for that matter. As far as he could remember he had bothered them all enough. Drunken yelling and borderline abusive behavior would leave a bad impression on anyone, and though he was sure there was a good time- he couldn't remember any of that.

"Okay..." Quackity breathed out, bringing one hand up to scrub down his face. He definitely heard someone that time. For sure. Right? Slowly taking his guitar off, he set it aside and looked towards the treeline where he thought he had heard it, squinting. The terror tightened around his heart. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was Tommy spying again?

  
He sighed, thoughts of Ghostbur flashing through his mind. If Wilbur came back, he supposed that tyrant could too. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of this before. 

"Uhm.." He hesitated, feeling a bit stupid again as he called out towards the trees. Fuck, maybe he was crazy. "I-I know you're there. You can, uh, come out." 

Well, if it actually was him he didn't want him to come out, but the offer had already escaped his lips before he could think about that.

"...are you sure?" A ghostly voice rasped- a bit louder this time so the other could hear him. He slowly leaned around and peaked out of the treeline- instant regret almost made him shiver just from Quackity's tense stance. He hated this- he was just fine with watching everyone be happier without him, well maybe not but it was better than this. Floating by and not bothering anyone, even though it hurt when he wanted to bother someone, was better than accidentally ruining Alex's moment.

Quackity sputtered even though he had half expected this, immediately scrambling to his feet. "Holy shit." He gasped before he could think about what he was saying. "Fuck. Shit. What the fuck?" He glanced around like he thought this was some joke, before blinking rapidly and looking back at the peeking ghostly outline of Schlatt disbelievingly. Even more so at the guilt and regret that filled the dead man's face when they locked eyes. He had to break eye contact, unable to stare at that transparent grey face for much longer. 

  
Both his hands found their way into his dark hair, tugging slightly as he raised his head to look at the cloudy sky. "No way this is happening. No way you're back. What the fuck." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He shuddered. "What the fuck."

Schlatt instantly took a step back, going back to hiding behind the tree. Feeling hidden and some form of safe he processed the other's words.

  
"I'm... I'm not back- shit, fuck I'm sorry-" 

  
He bit his lip and hid further into himself, just wanting to disappear. The look in Alex's eyes hurt for him to see- but it was understandable. He was in no spot to try and comfort the other who all he could recall of their relationship was hurting each other, but he knew he caused more pain.

Quackity let out a humorless chuckle, letting go of his hair and dragging his hands all the way down his face. He sighed heavily, head tilting back down to stare at the tree where Schlatt had just been looking at him.

"No, I-," He paused, taking a deep, shaky breath, "I saw you, Schlatt. You might as well- might as well come out now." He bit his tongue, dropping his gaze to stare at his shoes before glancing back up again. "I shouldn't be scared of you anyway. You can't do shit now." 

The way he said it was harsh, clearly snapping at the dead president. The fear washed away from his tone, being replaced by a tidal of annoyance. The shorter man was so caught up in his hatred and lingering terror of Schlatt that he didn't notice his unusual behavior.

Schlatt almost winced at the tone the man used. Deciding to face his fears- ironically his fears were a small Mexican man- he stepped out from behind the tree. His hand remained on the trunk as he assessed this decision. Quackity was clearly annoyed- if not angered by his presence. He would be too if the dictator that treated him like shit just came back as a ghost behind a fucking tree.

  
The ram-ghost was almost wary of the harsh confidence in his tone when he said he couldn't do anything. It was true, wasn't it? Schlatt had tried to do so much as send a breeze someone's way and nothing had worked until miraculously someone just had to hear his mumbling. The comment did hit a little close to home as he wandered closer to the edge of the tree line.

Quackity's demeanor worsened when he noticed Schlatt's almost fearful face. He scoffed at him, giving him an incredulous look. HE was scared? The one who had practically traumatized him in the first place? The rage that boiled in his gut grew the longer he stared down his pale face with an angry look. His confidence grew the more he realized how much of an advantage he had over the ghost at the moment, noticing the way his expression shifted at his harsh comment. He crossed his arms, looking as intimidating as he could possibly be.

"So you're actually back?" He wondered allowed, wrath lacing his tone, a drastic change to a few minutes ago. "What makes you suddenly want to show up now? Wanna torture me some more?" He sneered at him, lacking sympathy he usually had an abundance of.

He recoiled a bit at the sudden change in tone,

"Well no actually- I..I've been trying to talk to you for... for a long time really-" He took a small step back as the words really sunk in. 

  
"..you think I would torture you?" His voice was barely above a whisper as it sunk in. He thought back to all the memories he managed to hold onto of Quackity. Out of everything he recalled- it was a fair assumption actually. He could almost feel the anger basically radiating off the living man.

Quackity fumbled for words, thrown off balance by his reaction. He thought maybe with his hurtful remarks Schlatt would bite back, but- nothing. All he got in return was regret and sadness from the ghost, filling him with guilt even though he knew he had every right to be furious.

  
Damn empathy. 

  
He uncrossed his arms, starting to struggle slightly. He chuckled dryly again, glaring at him almost confusedly. "Seriously? A-and yes, I mean, obviously you would. You did for months." He gulped, glancing away, and then back at him. What was wrong with Schlatt? This was not the man he learned to know and fucking despise.

  
"Yea.. suppose I did- I mean it's all I can remember...fucks sake I-I'm sorry," The ghost fumbled with his words, refusing to meet the man's eyes. He gripped the ends of his baby blue sweater sleeves and fiddled with them, 

  
"I didn't mean to interrupt.. no one visits really-" He glanced towards his grave, almost grimacing at the sheer sight of it. "..though I suppose no one would want too with the state I've left things." He sighed and went to turn around,

  
"...I fucked everything up- even your little moment when I was supposed to be gone, I'll uhm..." He bit his lip and spared one glance to meet the other's eyes before quickly looking back at the floor, "I'll be out of your hair now," He was never really good at apologies in his lifetime- but that was due to a much stronger sense of pride than actual remorse. It made his job now so much harder, god he wished he wasn't such a dickhead in his life.

_"I-I'm sorry,"_ The words echoed in his head. 

Quackity's face crumbled at the pathetic apology, confusion flooding his senses, anger disappearing for the moment. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, staring at Schlatt. He clenched his fist and then unclenched it.

  
"W-wait- Hold on, pause," He called out, stepping forward and raising his arm as if to reach out to the dead man before dropping it, remembering that he was a ghost. His expression was that of hesitant concern, now wondering if he was dreaming as Schlatt indirectly apologized again. 

"Schlatt, do you, uhm," His breathing kicked up a bit, almost hopeful at the answer to his question even though he knew he couldn't fully forgive him yet, "actually mean that?" His voice quieted at the end, full of anticipation.

He stopped himself from walking away, and when he looked up he was instantly confused by the gesture of Alex holding out his arm to him- asking him a question instead of mocking him.

"I- of course, I do Quackity... What kind of person would I be if I didn't regret the drunk I made you put up with.." His face held a small glimmer of hope for a moment, "It wasn't fair to you... you were just trying to take down a tyrant and I made you help build one.." He grabbed his arm and rubbed it a bit hesitantly as he turned back to face Quackity, looking up at him for a response,

It didn't make sense to Quackity. If he was sorry now, why'd he even do it in the first place? He scanned his face frantically for any hint of manipulation, but only found an expression that matched his own hesitant hope. At this point he didn't know what to feel- well, he hadn't known what to feel when he had originally found the ghost and resorted to anger- and tried to sort through his rapidly changing emotions, biting his lip. 

  
A few of the good memories of the ex-president flashed through his crowded mind, of when they used to banter and joke around when they were actually friends. And right now, he really wanted to be angry at Schlatt, but he couldn't bring himself to snap at him again when he so badly wanted that friendship back. Which could be considered pathetically desperate, but he couldn't help himself. 

  
"You're serious..?" It almost came out as a question. He glanced back at his guitar, thinking of his hateful song directed towards the dead man before him. "Actually?" He turned to look at him again.

  
"Alex I..." He nervously tried to lighten the mood- even if it ruined everything he had just built up, "I don't know i..if you've noticed- I'm dead..." He smiled very hesitantly- his shakiness evident. "I really don't think hurting you more would help anything... I've got no goals or anything anymore really and well- fuck man- your the only person who's talked to me at all... I don't want to ruin that," His chest ached as he remembered all of his attempts to apologize or gain anyone's attention- but even the damned bastard Ghostbur ignored him apart from a quick greeting after they had both died.

Quackity’s eyes widened at the use of his real name. He glanced away, thinking. His reasoning was solid. He laughed a bit at his remark, looking back over. "Shit, really? I actually didn't notice." He said sarcastically, easing up a bit as it set in that _Schlatt couldn't do anything, he was dead, and he was_ **_sorry_ **. "And, uh, yeah. You seem to understand why they won't." He hesitated, realizing that was a bit harsh. "I mean- you know." He shrugged uselessly, nonchalantly crossing his arms and going silent for a few moments. 

"I'll, uhm, I'll keep talking to you, though." He reassured. "I can't forgive you yet." He backtracked, hesitating. "But I'll- we can be- Fuck. We can try to be friends again. If you'd like it." He offered, stumbling over his words.

"R-really..? I mean yeah, of course, you don't have to forgive me I really fucked everything up and-" He stopped himself from rambling, inhaling deeply before sighing and smiling at Quackity, taking a few more steps away from the tree line. "If you would like to be my friend again I'd be honored Quackity," He dropped his arms and lightly pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in the old cocky- better than everyone- kind of way he did when he was alive, this was different.

Quackity reciprocated Schlatt's smile, stepping forward as well to close the gap between them. "Well then, you're a businessman, right?" He joked, sticking his hand out towards him. "Let's shake on it. Friends?" He asked, half sincere about the "shaking on it" part.

He chuckled a bit, "Suppose I am. Friends," He outstretched his hand and secured the handshake- without warning he pulled Quackity in and hugged the shorter man- he had been really lonely.

The brunet froze, tensing at the unexpected ghostly arms wrapping around him. He shifted in the embrace, hesitant. He decided to copy him, snaking his arms around the taller man, gripping the back of his sweater a bit. For a moment he let himself relish in the embrace of the dead man, relaxing his muscles and unknowingly leaning into the hug slightly. Perhaps he'd been a bit lonely, too.  
  
"Friends," Quackity confirmed again, mumbling into his shoulder.

  
The two were more alike than he'd ever admit.

**Author's Note:**

> written by me and my mate Pillar in a roleplay, so I apologize if it's formatted a bit odd. if you liked his writing here, check out his wattpad story Family Ties!  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/213902947  
> quackity: me  
> schlatt: pillar
> 
> also, according to ao3’s statistics, only a small percentage of you actually give kudos. so if you like the story, hit that kudos button. its free, and maybe you could leave a comment while you're at it! thank you and have a good rest of your day ❤️


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